


snowflakes falling on the hearth fire

by stonedgeralt



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Love Confessions, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonedgeralt/pseuds/stonedgeralt
Summary: He still can’t believe it: Two months ago, kissing Geralt had been nothing but a self-indulgent daydream. Now it’s become reflexive, almost instinctive, as if Jaskier has always been able to kiss his best friend.---On Christmas Eve, Jaskier realizes that he's pretty sure Geralt is his soulmate.  Unbeknownst to him, Geralt has come to a similar conclusion.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 140
Collections: Geraskier Holiday Exchange 2020





	snowflakes falling on the hearth fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wesawbears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/gifts).



> It's been nearly two months since I published anything (yikes!) but I have finally returned with some soulmates sweetness for [Britt](https://demisexualgeralt.tumblr.com), as a gift for the [Geraskier Holiday Exchange 2020](https://twitter.com/geraskierxchnge)! The prompt I chose was "anything with soulmates," with some "cuddling in front of a fire" mixed in. Happy holidays, Britt - I hope you enjoy this little gift!

When Jaskier finally pulls into his spot in front of their apartment, he’s surprised to see that the lights are still on inside. The clock on the dash tells him that it’s a quarter past eleven. Geralt is usually in bed by now. He’d probably passed out on the couch again - he had a long shift today, too. 

With a weary sigh, Jaskier trudges from his car to the front door. He wants nothing more than to collapse in his bed, preferably with Geralt tucked against his chest, and sleep for at least twelve hours. As he climbs the porch steps, he imagines Geralt’s sleepy smile when he realizes that Jaskier is home, the warm hug and the sweet, soft kiss he’ll get before he’s even taken his shoes off. The thought quickens Jaskier’s pulse, and his heart beats rapidly against his sternum. 

He still can’t believe it: Two months ago, kissing Geralt had been nothing but a self-indulgent daydream. Now it’s become reflexive, almost instinctive, as if Jaskier has always been able to kiss his best friend.

Jaskier unlocks the front door and steps into the apartment. He’s surprised to see Geralt waiting in the entryway. Jaskier immediately holds a hand up and says, “Wait a second, sweetheart. At least let me take off my coat.” He purposely takes his time, hanging up his coat properly and arranging his boots neatly on the shoe mat. He wants to see how long Geralt lasts. Finally, he turns and opens his arms. “Okay, c’mere.”

Two hundred pounds of boyfriend barrel into Jaskier. He gives a wheezy laugh and murmurs, “Hi.”

“Missed you,” Geralt says, pressing himself impossibly closer. 

“Missed you, too.” Jaskier leans into him and kisses his temple. He feels his body relax as he breathes in Geralt’s scent, a dusty vanilla sweetness that always lingers for a few hours after his shifts at the campus library. But there’s another smell, too. “Did you burn something?”

Geralt pulls away, and his blush confirms Jaskier’s suspicions. “Maybe,” he says. “But I wasn’t trying to. You know I’m shit at baking.”

“What did you bake?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt’s face lights up. “Come see. I have a whole night planned.”

Jaskier pointedly raises an eyebrow. “Ex- _cuse_ me,” he says. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Geralt bumps the heel of his hand against his forehead. “My sincerest apologies.” He leans in and kisses Jaskier sweetly, and Jaskier can feel Geralt’s playful grin against his mouth. “Better?”

“It’ll do,” Jaskier sniffs. “Now, show me the aftermath of your baking disaster.”

Geralt holds out his hand, and Jaskier lets him lead him into the apartment. He really isn’t in the mood for whatever it is his boyfriend has in mind, but he’s not willing to admit it, especially since Geralt seems so excited. When they reach the living room, Geralt stops and makes a sweeping gesture. Jaskier gives him a clueless look; with a sigh, he quickly flicks off the overhead light and says, “There we go.”

Jaskier surveys the room. On the coffee table, a few candles have been arranged around a plate of cookies and two mugs of what appears to be hot cocoa. Several neatly-folded blankets sit in a row on the couch, and a pair of Jaskier’s sweatpants and a hoodie are draped over the back. Jaskier can’t help the startled laugh that escapes him when he notices the television: Geralt has found one of those videos of a burning fireplace. The warm glow tinges everything a soft orange.

“What is this?” Jaskier asks.

“Our Christmas Eve date,” Geralt answers. “I know we’re spending Christmas together, but I wanted to get a head start. And I know you’re exhausted, so I won’t be upset if you fall asleep. I just…” He trails off, then continues: “You always plan our dates. It was my turn.”

“About time,” Jaskier teases. He’s thrilled at the fact that Geralt organized this for him - for _them_ \- when Jaskier has had to practically threaten him to participate in the date nights that he’s planned in the past. This is very uncharacteristic for him, but Jaskier knows better than to question his boyfriend. Geralt is a bit odd, but that’s part of his charm, and Jaskier wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Do you like it?” Geralt asks. His golden eyes are wide as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He’s nervous, as if Jaskier could be anything but delighted at this gesture.

With a warm smile, Jaskier pulls Geralt into a hug. “I love it,” he murmurs. “Thank you, Geralt. You put a lot of effort into this.”

Geralt makes a happy sound, and his arms tighten around Jaskier’s waist. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Now, get out of your uniform and into something comfier, and think of something to watch. I’ll reheat the cocoa.” He gathers the mugs from the table and slips past Jaskier into the kitchen. 

Sighing in relief, Jaskier takes off his work shirt and slips into the hoodie Geralt had laid out for him, followed by the sweatpants. He settles himself under two of the blankets on the couch while he waits for Geralt. He hears the microwave beep, followed by a short string of curses.

“Everything alright?” Jaskier calls. The reply he gets is little more than a grunt.

Laughing quietly, Jaskier picks up the TV remote. He knows exactly what he wants to watch: a Christmas episode of their favorite comedy show. He and Geralt had bonded over it when they became roommates at the beginning of the semester, and now they spend most of their mutual free time together rewatching old episodes, or studying with the show on for background noise. Jaskier feels that it makes sense to involve the show in their first Christmas together as a couple. Jaskier navigates away from the fireplace video and queues the episode, waiting for Geralt to return.

He hears soft footsteps behind the couch, and a mug of cocoa is lowered in front of his face. Jaskier grins, taking the mug carefully, and says, “Thank you.”

Geralt sets his own mug on the coffee table as he sits beside Jaskier. “Welcome,” he replies. Then he glances at the television and chuckles. “How’d I know you were gonna pick this one?”

“Because,” Jaskier declares, “you have impeccable taste in men and TV shows. Pass me that plate of cookies, would you?”

Geralt does so. “The bottoms are a little, uh, crispy,” he admits sheepishly.

“So _that’s_ what you burned.” Jaskier bites into a cookie. It’s much crunchier than it should be, but still good. “Well, they wouldn’t win any awards,” he says, “but I’m your boyfriend, not a judge on a baking show. I like them.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Thanks, babe. You always know just what to say.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaskier replies through a mouthful of crumbs. He leans against the arm of the couch and gestures for Geralt to scoot closer. “C’mon, grab a blanket and come snuggle.” 

“Yes, dear,” Geralt says, and even though Jaskier knows he’s teasing, the words still send a little jolt through his chest. His mind flashes briefly to the future: Geralt greeting him at the front door with a warm hug and a _Welcome home, dear_ ; waking up in Geralt’s embrace to a whispered _Good morning, dear._ Jaskier’s heart swells as Geralt tucks himself under his arm.

“Love you,” Jaskier murmurs, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s forehead. Geralt hums softly in agreement, and Jaskier kisses him again. Then he starts the episode.

Geralt hasn’t told Jaskier he loves him yet, but Jaskier doesn’t hold it against him. He hasn’t opened up much about his childhood, but Jaskier has gathered that it was… nontraditional. He knows that Geralt will open up when he’s ready. Jaskier has always been the first to say it, and he says it to just about everyone. While it _would_ be nice to hear it said out loud, there are other ways to demonstrate one’s feelings.

Besides, Jaskier is confident that Geralt loves him, too. He hides sweet little notes in Jaskier’s backpack and the pocket of his uniform shirt. On several occasions, he’s had flowers delivered to Jaskier’s workplace. Geralt made a playlist for him for their one-month anniversary, and Jaskier had enjoyed every song. And he hasn’t complained once about Jaskier stealing his clothes, not even when a mysterious dark stain showed up on one of his vintage band tees.

He knows it’s cliché, but Jaskier is pretty certain that he’s starting to understand the concept of soulmates. After spending the past two months with Geralt, he can finally see the truth in all of those analogies about socks and puzzles, locks and keys. He’s found his other half, his missing piece; Geralt has unlocked his heart, et cetera, et cetera.

Personally, Jaskier prefers the “coming home” comparison. When he’d met Geralt, it had been like walking into an unfamiliar house and somehow recognizing the interior, from the paint on the walls to the dishes in the kitchen cupboards. He remembered the creak of the floorboards, the way the bathroom faucet dripped, the warmth of the sunlight streaming through half-drawn curtains. It was as though Geralt had been ready for him, waiting at the front door with a cup of Jaskier’s favorite coffee and a fire already burning in the hearth.

Jaskier wonders how Geralt would describe it, that feeling of coming home, or if he even felt it like Jaskier had. He wonders what home looks like for Geralt. Against his better judgment, Jaskier lets himself imagine that it looks like this, like the two of them snuggled together on a secondhand couch watching their favorite show on Christmas Eve.

When the episode ends, Geralt insists on going back to the fireplace video. The cocoa has been drained from their mugs and all that remains of the cookies are a few crumbs. Jaskier absently plays with Geralt’s hair as he finds the video again. He’s warm under his blankets, and it’s getting harder to keep his eyes open.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “I’m sorry, but I think it’s time for bed.”

“Oh.” Geralt’s face falls. “I just had one more thing planned…”

Jaskier makes the mistake of meeting Geralt’s wide, pleading eyes, and is forced to relent. Hiding a grin, he sighs dramatically and says, “Alright.”

“Really?”

“You might have to shake me awake a few times,” Jaskier warns, “but I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

Beaming, Geralt presses a quick but ardent kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Jaskier replies, trying to ignore the sudden racing of his heart. 

Geralt extracts himself from Jaskier’s arms with a grunt. “Be right back,” he says. Then he hurries out of the living room and down the hall, toward their bedrooms. Jaskier watches the flickering flames on the TV screen while he waits, trying his best not to fall asleep. It isn’t long before Geralt returns, with a mischievous grin on his face and his hands hidden behind his back.

Jaskier’s eyes widen in mock surprise, and he clutches his chest like a startled soap opera character. “For me?” he gasps. “Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have!”

“Yeah, starting to see that now,” Geralt retorts. He sits beside Jaskier, then holds out a small, flat square wrapped in brown paper and adorned with a red velvet bow. Geralt has scrawled Jaskier’s name in the corner and added two clumsily-drawn hearts on either side. “This gift is a placeholder,” he explains. “Your real gift was on backorder until two days ago, but it should be here by the first. Still, I hope you like this, even though it’s kind of silly.” His smile is wide and warm as he says, “Merry Christmas, Jaskier.”

Jaskier takes the gift from him and examines it curiously. The contents feel soft and pliable, giving Jaskier an inkling as to what’s inside. He carefully removes the bow so that he can save it. Then he tears through the paper to reveal the contents: Geralt’s favorite shirt, a steel-blue tee that he’s had for years. At a glance, there’s really nothing special about it - it’s worn thin in several places and even sporting a few holes. But Jaskier knows better: It’s the first thing Geralt had purchased for himself with his own money, and he’s fiercely proud of that. It’s the only article of clothing that he hasn’t allowed Jaskier to wear.

Thoroughly stunned, Jaskier whispers, “You don’t have to give this to me.”

“I want to,” Geralt says earnestly. “Please, I want you to have it.”

Jaskier could spend hours analyzing what had led Geralt to make the decision to give him one of his most treasured belongings. At the moment, though, all Jaskier can do is run his fingertips over the soft cotton material in his lap. He can’t believe he’s teary-eyed over a damned shirt. But it’s not just the shirt - it’s the message behind it, the motivation.

“Thank you,” he says. He has to clear his throat before continuing: “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”

Geralt seems to sense Jaskier’s sudden vulnerability. He reaches out and takes Jaskier’s hands in his own, giving them a light squeeze. “I know you will,” he murmurs. Smiling fondly, Geralt tugs at Jaskier’s arms and says, “C’mere.”

With a shaky sigh, Jaskier leans forward, and Geralt’s strong arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels silly - if any of his past partners had given him one of their ratty old shirts, Jaskier would have been livid. But this is Geralt, the man who’s quite possibly his soulmate, and this worn piece of fabric means a lot more than perhaps even Geralt realizes.

“Would it help if I told you what your real gift was supposed to be?”

Perking up instantly, Jaskier nonchalantly answers, “Perhaps,” Jaskier answers.

“Little shit,” Geralt laughs. “Fine. Remember that scarf you saw on that fancy website? Red, with the polka dots?”

Jaskier narrows his eyes. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Don’t tell me—”

“Too late. It’s already on its way.”

“Geralt, that scarf was almost two hundred dollars!” Jaskier protests.

“Yeah, I know. I had to save up for it.” Geralt quickly adds, “But it was worth it. You’re gonna look really nice, and it’s cashmere, I think? So it’ll keep you warm, which is a scarf’s most important function.”

“Babe,” Jaskier says. “Geralt.”

“Yes?”

Jaskier takes one look at Geralt’s lopsided grin, at the sparkle in those amber eyes, and deflates. “I can’t believe you did that,” he mumbles lamely.

“You deserve it,” Geralt says. “Now, c’mon, sleepyhead. That was the last of this evening’s scheduled activities.”

“Wait.” Jaskier stops him with a hand on his chest. “I… got you something, too. Or, I mean, I _will_ get you something. It’s just not available yet.”

Geralt quirks an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not confusing at all.”

Jaskier smacks him on the shoulder. “Shut up. Stay here, I have a… thing.”

He stands up quickly and runs to his bedroom, rifling through the mess of papers on his desk. Jaskier distinctly remembers sticking the flyer in a textbook for safekeeping, but he can’t recall which one. When he finally finds it - tucked into his medieval history primer - he hurries back to the living room.

“Did you find the thing?” Geralt asks when Jaskier comes into view.

“I did,” Jaskier replies. He takes his seat beside Geralt and hands him the folded piece of paper. “Merry Christmas, Geralt.”

With a curious look, Geralt opens the flyer. Almost immediately, his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open on a quiet gasp. “Jaskier…”

“I know you’ve been looking forward to this,” Jaskier says, “but I also know you were concerned about ticket prices. Not to worry, my dear - as of next Monday, I’ll have saved enough to get two tickets for opening night. They won’t be available until January, but I signed up for the newsletter so I’ll know when they go on sale.”

“Two tickets?” Geralt asks. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Well, yeah.” Jaskier scoots closer and wraps one arm around Geralt’s waist. “You didn’t think I’d make you go alone, did you?”

The local art museum will be hosting an exhibit showcasing depictions of horses throughout history, and Geralt has been talking about the event for weeks. Jaskier learned very early that his boyfriend has a fondness for horses, and given that Geralt is majoring in art history, Jaskier felt that this would be the perfect gift. He’s been putting aside half of each meager paycheck, and has taken several extra shifts to save enough money for the tickets. Jaskier prefers music over visual art, and he doesn’t really have an opinion on horses, but he wouldn’t miss this for the world. He can picture it now: Geralt laughing as he pulls Jaskier through the museum’s halls, his face flushed with excitement, pointing at each painting and generally being a huge nerd. He’ll not only get to witness Geralt’s joy, but also participate in it, share it with him.

Really, Jaskier thinks, these tickets are a gift for both of them.

When Geralt looks at Jaskier, his eyes are misty. “Thank you,” he says. “I love it, Jaskier. Thank you so much.”

Jaskier presses a quick kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replies. “And now it’s finally time for bed. I’ll take these to the kitchen.” As he leans toward the coffee table for the plate and mugs, a hand on his waist suddenly stops him. Jaskier turns to Geralt and instantly freezes when he sees the expression on his face.

Geralt’s brow is furrowed, and his eyes are shut tight. It’s a familiar sight - he’d done the same thing when he asked Jaskier out on their first date, and when he suggested that they make things official. It’s the face Geralt makes when he’s preparing to say something serious, something that has the potential to backfire spectacularly.

Jaskier’s heart rate quickens; he feels his pulse throbbing in his temples. There’s no way that Geralt is breaking up with him, he’s quite sure of that, so what—?

“I love you,” Geralt blurts suddenly, “and I know it sounds like I’m only saying it now because of this gift, but I’ve wanted to say it for so, _so_ long, Jaskier, and I hope you’re not upset because it took me until now. I think…” He stops and takes a slow, deep breath. “I think you’re my soulmate. I never believed in that sort of thing, but when I met you, it was like I’d known you my whole life. It felt like…” He stops again, searching for the right words.

Jaskier finds them first: “Like coming home.”

Geralt’s body jerks like he’s been electrocuted. “W-What?”

“It felt like coming home,” Jaskier repeats. “It was the same for me, Geralt. I think you’re right.”

“Right about what?” Geralt croaks weakly.

Ever so gently, Jaskier takes Geralt’s face in his hands. As he thumbs away the tears that have gathered in the corners of Geralt’s eyes, he whispers, “I think we’re soulmates. When I saw you for the first time, I recognized you, somehow. I can’t explain it, logically, but I could write a thousand poems about how it feels to be with you.” Jaskier smiles, wide and sincere. “I love you, Geralt. I love you so much, and I… I want to be with you.” An unspoken _forever_ hangs in the air between them. 

Geralt covers Jaskier’s hands with his own. “I want to be with you, too,” he says quickly. “I can’t imagine my future without you. You—” He instinctively cuts himself off in embarrassment, but then bravely presses on: “You are my home, Jaskier. I love you, and I want to spend my life with you, if you’ll let me.”

Jaskier’s heart is fit to burst with love as he says, “I’d like that very much.”

He barely has time to catch his breath before Geralt is kissing him, clumsy in his eagerness, the fabric of Jaskier’s shirt bunched tightly in his fists. Jaskier’s startled laugh becomes a satisfied sigh. When he feels something stir inside him, he knows unequivocally that Geralt _was_ right: The two of them are soulmates, destined to spend their lives together.

Jaskier laughs, a giddy sound, and says, “I can’t believe I found you on Craigslist.”

Geralt laughs, too. “What a bargain,” he deadpans, pulling Jaskier against his chest. 

“My frugality has finally paid off.” Jaskier tucks his face against the side of Geralt’s neck, breathing him in with a contented sigh. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Merry Christmas, Geralt.”

“Merry Christmas,” Geralt answers. “I love you, too.”

Jaskier makes a happy sound and snuggles closer. He focuses on the faint thrum of Geralt’s heart, so close to his own, and lets his eyes slip shut.

They don’t move for a long time. The candles begin to sputter, having nearly run out of wick to burn, but the fire on the television doesn’t falter. Jaskier’s exhaustion finally triumphs, thanks in part to the warmth of Geralt’s body, and his limbs are heavy as he yawns.

“Need me to carry you?” Geralt asks, his voice as soft as the kiss he presses to Jaskier’s nose.

Jaskier shakes his head stubbornly. Then he gasps and says, “I didn’t get you a placeholder present!”

Geralt laughs, and Jaskier feels the rumble of it in his own chest. “It’s fine, Jaskier. Let’s get you to bed. C’mon, up.”

Struggling to stand on weary legs, Jaskier continues to lament his mistake: “It’s _not_ fine. I feel like an ass.”

As he tidies up the living room - blowing out the candles, turning off the TV - Geralt assures him that there’s nothing to worry about. Then he guides Jaskier to his bedroom. When they pass the kitchen, Jaskier glances at the oven clock and groans.

“It’s officially Christmas,” he whines, “and you don’t even have a present from me. I’m a terrible soulmate.”

“May I suggest a present?” Geralt asks. 

“As long as it’s cheap” Jaskier grumbles, “and it’s something I can get even though everything is closed today.”

Geralt hums. “Pretty sure you won’t have to go far to find it. And I’m hoping it’ll be free.”

Jaskier sighs wearily. “Alright, is my brain too tired to process simple sentences, or are you being intentionally cryptic?”

“Maybe a bit of both.” Geralt stops in the doorway to his bedroom and moves in front of Jaskier. “For a placeholder gift,” he declares, “I will accept a single kiss.”

Jaskier’s grin matches the one on Geralt’s face. “Well,” he says, “what kind of boyfriend would I be to refuse such a generous proposal?”

Geralt nods solemnly. “Exactly.” He leans in and closes his eyes. “Better make it good, sweetheart,” he teases.

With an indignant scoff, Jaskier takes Geralt’s chin in his hand and kisses him, rough and messy. He doesn’t have the energy to take things any further, but this kiss is a promise that he firmly intends to fulfill after a good night’s sleep. 

The urge to yawn makes Jaskier pull away. “How was that?” he asks. Geralt answers with a low, hungry whine, and Jaskier laughs. “That’s what I thought. Now, I love you, Geralt, but if my head doesn’t hit a pillow in the next ten seconds, I’m going to riot.”

Geralt doesn’t protest. He helps Jaskier get undressed and tucked under the covers, then does the same. Jaskier presses up against his back, draping his arm around Geralt’s waist and resting one hand over his heart. He barely manages a whispered goodnight before he’s slipping under, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his soulmate’s heart beating gently beneath his palm.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on Twitter [@stonedgeralt](https://twitter.com/stonedgeralt)!


End file.
